Report of the First Thule Expedition 1912. 313 



been more delighted at the sight. True, it was still a long way off, 

 and the intervening valleys seemed filled deep with snow. Still, we 

 could see it, and the despairing uncertainty as to what obstacles lay 

 between us and our goal was at an end. Danmarks Fjord was now 

 not more than a day's journey away. 



We got down to the sledges again, cooked a brace of ptarmigan 

 and brewed a cup of coffee, extra strong, which further served to raise 

 our spirits. Then Uvdloriaq lay down to rest on his sledge, while I 

 indulged in a sleep, which I sorely needed. 



Next day Inukitsoq and 1 set off on the track of the others. 

 The dogs were better for the rest, but sorely weakened now by hunger. 

 Things are looking bad as far as game is concerned, all our efforts 

 in that direction having been utterly fruitless. 



We toil on, slowly, step by step, the dogs with heads down and 

 tails between their legs. Later on in the day we come up with the 

 others, who have camped. 



Uvdloriaq has got a musk ox! 



Hooray ! 



This little piece of good luck, however, meant but a feed for Uvd- 

 loriaq's own team and our four selves ; the beast was in frightfully poor 

 condition, and the meat as tough as gristle. We were therefore obliged 

 to slaughter a couple more dogs, and start out on a new hunting ex- 

 pedition. 



It was a weary business all through. For all our efforts, the bag 

 was meagre: nine musk ox on the 12th, one more on the 25th, and 

 after that, ceaseless wanderings over hill and dale, always two of us 

 at least being out, with the final result that we got three more musk 

 ox on the 27th; good beasts this time, three fat bulls. We found a 

 carcase, too, down by the river, and were very glad to get it. 



We could now give the dogs a few days' rest once more, and feed 

 them up to rights; the musk ox meat, full of fat as it was, soon 

 freshened them up. We fetched down some gear which we had left 

 with a sledge farther up the river bed, and at last, on the 31st of 

 March, we reached Danmarks Fjord. 



Here I made the following entry in my diary: 



We have now got through the Zig-Zag \''alley at last, but its 

 miserable 150 km. have taken us nearly as long to cover as the whole 

 thousand across the inland ice, and have cost us far more dear. Apart 

 from hunger and fatigue, the journey from the edge of the inland ice 

 to the coast has lost us nearly a score of dogs. 



Right opposite our camp a fine peak of warm and beautifully 

 coloured sandstone juts out into Danmarks Fjord. This has been our 

 goal for many days, beckoning us with its sun-gilt profile to leave the 

 toilsome ravines and tread the level sea ice in their stead. And in our 



